


My Right-Hand Man

by cherrygrace



Series: Adrien August 2020 [17]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien AUGreste 2020, Adrien Agreste is a Prince, Adrien August, Day 17: Plagg, Gen, Human Kwamis, Humor, Implied Ladrien, Married to Tikki but this is a lil detail, Medieval AU, More Plagg & Adrien being good friends, Plagg as human, Same identity problems, Supporting Chaos, implied Marichat - Freeform, still sarcastic and loving cheese, talking about love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25954234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrygrace/pseuds/cherrygrace
Summary: Sir Plagg was known as Prince Adrien's right-hand man, both for royal duties and to assist him in his escapades to the village as Chat Noir.Adrien August Day 17 ― Plagg
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Plagg
Series: Adrien August 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858954
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	My Right-Hand Man

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I’m throwing alternative universes on you all. Yes, I’m not feeling guilty about it.  
> I had fun writing this one bc its everything more formal and romantic (medieval era and stuff) but at the same time, I explore more of my own creativity to adequate the original to the au. I’m still working on this whole universe, no promises yet  
> At least, I hope you enjoy this little story I made <3
> 
> *Note: Coccinelle is the french name for "ladybug". I just made this choice for Ladybug's name to seem like a real name.

There was a knock at the door and Prince Adrien put aside the Latin lesson to answer the caller. His face beamed up when he saw his page and knight, Sir Plagg de Chaton, on the other side. He allowed his entrance into the room, looking around to check if they weren’t seen.

The page carried a large box with him and it was placed on the bed while the door was closed. Plagg took out everything the prince would need.

It had been a while since the monarch had insisted on his sneak escapes to the village outside the castle walls, dressed like an astute swordsman called Chat Noir. Covered by a mask, no one truly recognized him. In fact, from the rumors he heard around, the mysterious masquerade was being a problem for the local bandits but a joy to the villagers.

However, Plagg knew well that it wasn’t the fun provided from the freedom or entertainment of hunting down murderers and dangerous thieves with his own hands that motivated Prince Adrien's continued visits.

“Do you want to see your maid seamstress tonight?,” he asked with a smirk.

“Marinette is not my maid, Plagg. _She is a friend_ ,” replied the monarch.

“Your maid friend then.”

Adrien laughed as he tied his boots. His entire outfit was kept in the same black hue, almost as dark as the night. It was certainly a differential for his royal clothes, always with clear colors and full of gold and silver brocades, choking him and maintaining his imposing posture.

In other hand, as Chat Noir, he wore a large dark shirt with long sleeves, free and loose under his body. He didn't worry about being hit by a sword, knowing how to defend himself like nobody else in the kingdom. There was only one detail that had been included because of a small circumstance.

Marinette, daughter of the baker Tom, took him into her room the first night when he left the palace and ended up fighting in the tavern. On his escape, he was pulled by the baker maiden and hidden until daybreak. To give him luck, the girl gifted him a small bell that was tied to the sword by a thin green ribbon.

It was a bell originating from the eastern lands of China, gilded with a carved cat head. He kept that gift very fondly.

“Marinette is a very special person to me. Very sweet, gentle and kind. She is also brave, smart and has a sharp tongue. It amuses me,” the boy smiled deeply, engrossed in his own thoughts. “I value her safety.”

“Safety? If you are protecting her, Your Highness, who will protect her from _you_?,” questioned the amused page.

Plagg extended the black mask to the prince, his sharp green eyes reading through the youngest without any difficulty. Adrien had always regarded that man ― former knight and army general and for the past sixteen years, the prince's right-hand arm ― as a large, humane cat.

His black hair was wild, his smile was infested with irony, his breath was perfumed by the strong smell of camembert cheese. He was almost always in a bad mood, completely unbearable for other people. But somehow, he had become attached to the heir of the Agreste house as a true father.

In fact, being the king quite busy with his royal and political services, Sir Plagg considered himself more of a father to the prince than any of the advisers and tutors around him. And as an avid encourager of chaos, he willingly helped Prince Adrien to do what he wishes even if it goes against the royal court.

Nobody knew him better than Plagg. He knew well what was going on in his mind, his watchful eyes picked up things that the monarch himself didn’t discovered. Even about a detail that escaped the passionate and confused eyes of Adrien's youthful nature.

“What are you saying, Plagg? My heart belongs to _my Lady_ _Coccinelle_ ,” declared the prince.

Oh, love! Oh, the blindness! Oh, the irony that fate often likes to play on lovers!

The retired knight laughed openly at such words. If only his lord knew that Duchess La Coccinelle was the maiden Marinette! However, his wife Tikki made him swear never to reveal this secret. The young woman was temporarily welcomed as part of Princess Kagami's court, her name and origin were a mystery to everyone in the palace.

But it took a ballroom and a dance for Prince Adrien to have his heart hooked.

For a long time, Plagg didn’t notice the resemblance of the said duchess and the baker’s daughter ― although he always went to the bakery to buy some bread. It was miraculously amazing what keeping hair pinned and adorned with jewelry and then loose and dirty with flour could do to a woman's appearance.

Remembering that no one associated Chat Noir's sword skills with Adrien's fencing lessons made Plagg feel less blind.

For now, he would say nothing to the lad and let the answers come out on their own. Even the young seamstress didn’t seem know that the prince was the daring swordsman who visited her constantly, like a stray cat in the pale moonlight. He shouldn't be involved in that story.

“Prepared?,” asked the man, opening the curtains on the bedroom window.

“Yes. Everything perfect, as usual,” Chat Noir nodded in approval, the scabbard tied at the waist. “Or should I say, _purrfect_.”

“Tell me that the Flour Maiden tries to kill you every time you say something like that.”

“Yes, and she has a heavy hand. As you say, my dear companion, I will never again be deceived by the delicacy of a gentle lass's hand. Some hands are able to pick flowers and others, because they are so pierced with needles and kneading bread, have become as strong and hard as rocks!”

“Praise her that way and you will see _another_ form of bread cover your face.”

The swordsman hugged Plagg and turned, looking out into the night. The stars were clearer than ever, the curvature of the half of the moon reigned over the sky above them. He should be going soon.

“In case anyone ask for Your Highness, I will say that you are occupied with Latin and Roman law,” said the page beside him. “Like every full moon and waning night. A curious pattern, I must say.”

“I think it's poetic to say that my smile is exposed in the stars,” laughed the lad. “Until dawn, Plagg.”

“Until dawn, Adrien.”

Plagg watched Chat Noir come down from the bedroom window, covered by the black cloak and disappear into the shadows. At the front gate, towards which the room was facing and which received the palace supplies, Wayzzy and Nino would make way for him. The night reserved the lights of the village and the voices of the peaceful night time of ordinary commoners.

And he, as a good right-hand man, would take care to no one discovered that secret. Exactly like a cat, he would remain complete silence.


End file.
